Page 41 of I Married A Syllen

“Your skin is very different from an Edocit’s, but your vines and veris feel the same,” I mused aloud as I continued to touch him a bit more boldly.

My palm caressed his chest upward towards his neck. As soon as I touched his gills, he hissed, and his body shuddered.

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, pulling away my hand with a hint of panic.

My stomach quivered at the sensual look on his face instead of the pained one I expected.

“Do not be sorry, Mirella,” he said in a reassuring tone. “You didn’t hurt me. But our gills are erogenous.”

Even as my jaw dropped, I realized that I should have thought of it. After all, it was also the case with the Thalans of Triton.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated clumsily.

“There’s no need to be sorry, remember? Or should I understand that you do not want to give me pleasure?” he added teasingly.

He chuckled when I pressed both palms to my cheeks that were all but bursting into flames.

“You’re on Mazeria now, Mirella. Life among the Syllens isn’t so complicated,” he said softly. “There’s no reason for you to feel this embarrassed. Explore your mate. Touch what’s yours.”

Clamping down on my lingering mortification, I complied and resumed touching him. This time however, I made certain to avoid his gills, which made him chuckle again. I wanted to drop kick him, even though I found his reaction sexy as hell. His green eyes stared intensely at me as he stoically submitted to me tracing his eyebrow, his fanned ears, and then the tentacles that served as hair for him. I grabbed one of them in my hand and let it glide through my fingers. His lips quivered before stretching into a shit-eating grin.

“What?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you smiling like that?”

His smile broadened, exposing the slightly sharp edges of his teeth while his eyes darkened.

“Never touch another person’s leinis the way you just did mine. Running your hand like that means you want to copulate with them,” he said in a purring voice.

I once more nearly yanked my hand away. I wasn’t trying to signal that I wanted to have sex with him—although I actually did. But I wanted to show that despite my stupid face constantly blushing, I wasn’t the hopeless prude he was likely starting to believe me to be. He raised an impressed eyebrow when I held his gaze unwaveringly as I touched the vines wrapped around his tentacles—which he named leinis.

I dropped it, reining in the naughty thoughts coursing through my mind about ways to mess with his head before circling around him to look at his tail. He lifted it up so that I could get a better view. I caressed the wider, recurved end, bracing for him to make another comment about how this was erotic somehow. To my surprise, he didn’t.

“I’m assuming it helps you with swimming?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Yes. We occasionally use it to break certain things and to compact dirt. It also serves for the game of toppa where we use our tails to strike a ball. It can be tricky and requires a great deal of precision and dexterity,” he explained.

“I can’t wait to see it,” I said as I reluctantly pulled my hand away from him.

“You will. There’s so much I can’t wait to show you,” he said warmly.

“And I’m looking forward to all of it,” I replied with sincerity before spreading my arms and looking down at myself. “You can touch as well. It’s only fair that I should return the favor.”

He gave me a guarded look that took me aback.

“You don’t have to allow it just because I did it for you,” he said carefully.

I smiled. “Thank you for saying that. But I’m genuinely offering. I’m yours, too. If something makes me uncomfortable, I will tell you.”

“Very well,” he said before greedily reaching for my hair.

That made me laugh. Considering how different it was from their leinis, I could see why my hair fascinated him so much. He combed his hand through it, letting the long strands run through his fingers before repeating the gesture. I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face as he stared at my hair with awe. With much chagrin, he finally let go of it to trace the round curve of my ear. To my shame, a pesky little flame lit up in the pit of my stomach as his fingers gently caressed my cheek, the pointy tip of my nose, and my lips.

The spark of amusement that flashed over his features as his hand glided down the length of my neck told me he was thinking of me caressing his gills. The wretch was clearly enjoying my mortification.

I stiffened when his palm settled on my right breast. He froze and locked eyes with mine. He didn’t remove his hand, likely because I didn’t pull away from his contact.

“Never touch another woman’s breast without her consent… or ever for that matter,” I said in a playfully menacing voice.